


Of Sylvan Hounds and Sylvan Hearts

by pretchatta



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretchatta/pseuds/pretchatta
Summary: Fianna has a secret. Trahearne has a crush. The author has 5 chapters of trope-filled trash about salads. Caithe and Occam play the dutiful BFFs of two idiots in love, and try not to laugh about it (well, not too hard anyway).





	1. Chapter 1

Fianna heard it before she saw it; a muffled whimpering coming from a particularly thick clump of vegetation.

The other Wardens had already set off back for the Grove after the successful assault on the Nightmare Court camp, but Fianna had dawdled, as she often did, to sort out her poorly packed (and nearly overflowing) backpack. She couldn’t help it; she liked collecting things, and these Nightmare Court wouldn’t be using their weapons, nor those potentially useful scraps of their now-destroyed armour.

She was just tying a finely-made longbow to the outside of her bag when she heard something at odds with the soft sounds of the forest. Over the gentle rustling of wind through the trees and animals through the bushes, the whines of pain and loneliness stood out.

Her head jerked up automatically at the noise. She pushed her pack aside to set off towards it, seeing the hole just in time. Amongst some bushes, a small tree had clearly been pulled up by the Nightmare Court for some nefarious plan, leaving a gaping but concealed chasm behind where the roots had been. At the bottom, wounded but scrabbling to get out, was a young sylvan hound.

Fianna gasped with surprise. “Hush, little one; it’s all right, I’ll help you.”

Carefully, she climbed down to the pup. Up close, she could see what was causing its pain; a vine of nightmare thorns was wrapped around one of its legs. It must have been one of the captives, she thought to herself, but escaped when the Wardens began their assault.

“I mean you no harm,” she said gently, reaching out to the hound. It quivered, still whimpering, but made no attempt to shy away from her. As gently as she could, she removed the vine, but the pup still yelped as she pulled the thorns free.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” As soon as the vine was no longer touching the hound’s leg it stopped shaking and fell silent, its breathing returning to normal. “Now, let’s have a look at that leg.”

She bent to examine the wound and her heart sank; the thorns must have been poisoned. Tendrils of darkness twisted up from each point where the vine had pierced the pup’s leg, stretching up towards its body. The poison would now spread until it reached the hound’s heart, with only two possible outcomes: the hound would die, or be turned to nightmare. 

The pup looked up at her. It had no way of knowing its fate.

She was still holding the vine; looking at it, she saw that it was withered and dry. Maybe it’s poison wasn’t as potent? Maybe the hound had got free before it had had a full dose? She looked back at the hound’s leg; she didn’t know how fast the poison was supposed to spread, but it hadn’t gone much further than the vine had been. Maybe there was a chance?

Taking a deep breath, Fianna considered her options.

Leaving the sylvan hound where it was and returning to the Grove seemed the most cruel. Though it was free of the thorns, it was holding the injured leg gingerly and not putting any weight on it; if the poison didn’t get to it, it would starve, even if she helped it out of the hole.

Taking it with her to the Grove wasn’t an option either; as soon as Niamh saw the Nightmare poison, she would order it be killed. As the founder and leader of the Wardens, Niamh had spent many years fighting the Nightmare Court, and wouldn’t stand for even the smallest chance of the hound turning to Nightmare. She was ruthless when it came to the Court.

So whatever she was going to do, she would have to do it here, in the forest. Putting the pup out of its misery before she’d even given it a chance of survival was out of the question to her, which left only way forward: she would care for the hound herself.

_“All things have a right to grow.”_

Even if the pup didn’t make it, it deserved the chance to try.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the pup, stroking its head. Standing up, she climbed her way back out of the hole, and flung the vine as far away as possible.

Fianna then set to work. First, she found a sturdy-looking trunk that was still hidden by the bushes and a vine from a nearby tree. She tied one end to the trunk and fashioned a harness out of the other. She then returned to the pup and gently gathered it in her arms and carried it to the vine. She fetched it some water from the nearby stream and leaves and fruit from the nearby bushes and watched as the pup eagerly ate and drank. She then used some more water to rinse the wound clean and bound the leg with the leaves, hoping that her basic field medic training was enough.

She stayed with the pup a little while, consoling and playing with it, but eventually she knew she had to return to the Grove or her presence would be missed. She double-checked the vine harness and left the hound with a little more food and a large seed pod filled with more water, before regretfully leaving it alone again.

“Stay quiet and you’ll be safe. I’ll be back for you soon, I promise.”

She hoped it understood.

*** 

Back at the Grove, Trahearne was reading yet another book on Orr. Or at least, he was pretending too. The Caledon Path was not the best place for studying; it was noisy, busy and lacked anything that resembled a desk. Really, it was the worst place to try to work, but there was a mostly comfortable ridge he could sit on, and by pretending he liked the change of scenery, he could keep an eye on who was coming into the the Grove.

Well, he could keep an eye on whether one sylvari in particular had arrived. He had already seen most of the Warden patrol return from their successful raid, so where was she?

Trahearne didn’t have many friends outside of his Firstborn siblings. Though many were only too happy to talk to him, they soon grew at best tired and at worse alienated by his constant talk of Orr and his Wyld Hunt. No-one wanted to listen to tales of destruction and corruption, descriptions of the horrors Zhaitan brought forth, or the bleak truth that Trahearne had absolutely no idea how in the Mother’s name he was going to reverse it.

Fianna, however, was different. She, too, wanted to see evil gone from Tyria, and though her own Wyld Hunt was not yet fully formed, she had one, and it centered on the undead Elder Dragon. She was always alert when he told her of his latest findings on Orr, and always had words of encouragement after another attempt at removing dragon corruption failed.

He liked that there was no sense of duty when she talked to him. He often felt his Firstborn siblings’ sympathy towards him, and sometimes pity, but he never felt it from her. She didn’t care that he had been given an impossible Wyld Hunt, and she’d been born after the traumatic actions of the asura towards the Secondborn dwarfed any other pain stored in the Dream. He knew that every time his ten brothers and sisters looked at him they remembered Riannoc and his death, and the period of grief that had followed. They’d all mourned, but he knew his grief had been the most excruciating and simultaneously numbing, and they’d all felt it through their shared connection. Not her; her knowledge of the Dream was an average over far more of their people, far less specific experiences.

It was a good hour before Fianna stepped onto the Path. He almost missed her; he’d actually started reading his book. He smiled and waved, but she didn’t seem to see him; instead, she hurried past, intent on reaching a destination. His smile faded, and he sighed, watching her go.

Picking up his book, he stood to begin home, but stopped short of setting off. Ahead of him on the Path, Fianna had been waylaid by her blacksmith friend, Occam. Trahearne had nothing against Occam, but he got on so well with Fianna that the two were close friends, and Trahearne couldn’t help wishing he could have something like that.

Occam was saying something to her, and his manner seemed urgent. Likely she was late for something; she was never normally so far behind the other Wardens after a routine excursion.

Trahearne hung back and watched her tell him something, and saw his eyes go wide, though he couldn’t tell if Occam’s expression was of shock or fear. He shook his head and said something else, frowning, and then took her by the arm and lead her quickly back into the Grove.

Trahearne sighed again and followed, resigning himself to an afternoon alone at his desk.


	2. Chapter 2

Fianna returned the pup as often as she dared over the next few days. She was pleased to see that Cavall, as she had named him, was seemingly stable; the cuts from the thorns were healing, if a little slower than similar wounds might, and though the poison wasn’t leaving his body, it wasn’t spreading either.

Occasionally, Occam would join her. They had met in the spring, when she had rescued him from the Nightmare Court and, with his help, defeated the knight Bercilak, who had been terrorising young saplings. The whole experience had brought them closer together and they’d been firm friends since. She’d trusted him with the hound’s secret, knowing he kept his distance from the Firstborn and sylvari politics and so wouldn’t feel the need to report her.

Together they fed and played with Cavall, enjoying their time with the pup so much that the secretive nature of their visits was a cost worth paying. Even when she wasn’t joined by her closest friend, Fianna looked forward to seeing Cavall, and had to drag herself away when it was time to leave. Fortunately Occam was able to cover for her with Niamh the few times she was late to her Warden duties; it wasn’t unusual for master craftsmen to ask Wardens to escort a delivery or two, and it was common knowledge that Occam and Fianna were close.

Unfortunately, on one occasion she lost track of time completely. After hurriedly re-concealing Cavall, she ran back to the Grove, where she nearly collided with Occam coming the other way.

“There you are! I was coming to get you; Niamh’s not happy, apparently you’ve missed a training session?” he panted, waving his hands frantically. “She even came all the way out to my house looking for you! I couldn’t use the usual excuse, my cart was clearly outside.”

“I know, I’m late, I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time!” she said, trying to catch her breath, falling into step beside him as they set a brisk pace down the Caledon Path. “Hopefully I won’t be in too much trouble…”

“She’s going to want to know where you’ve been,” Occam said in a low voice as they passed other travellers. “Have you got an excuse?”

“No - oh thorns, I don’t have time to think of one! And I can’t just tell her the truth, you know what would happ- Trahearne!” She almost walked right into the Firstborn, but saw him just in time.

“Fianna, it’s good to see you. I believe I heard Niamh is looking for you.”

“Yes, I missed a Warden training session because -” she stopped herself. She needed that excuse.

“Because?” he enquired.

She knew how close the Firstborn siblings were; there was no way she could tell him and expect him to keep it from Niamh. “I - ah, um…”

Trahearne watched her falter, his expression unreadable.

“I’d better go,” Occam said, interrupting her floundering. “I can see Niamh ahead, and I don’t want her to think I was lying about not seeing you.” He disappeared behind a group of visiting Norn before she could stop him.

“Warden Fianna, there you are! Why weren’t you at the training session today?” Niamh had reached them, and Fianna still didn’t have an excuse. “Trahearne, it’s good to see you outside of your study, brother.”

“Um, well, I was…” She frantically tried to come up with something.

“With me,” Trahearne suddenly said. “She was with me, Niamh.” Fianna turned to him, shocked that he, a Firstborn, was so blatantly lying, to _another Firstborn_ , and for _her_. It was slightly too much for her brain to handle.

“With you?” Niamh, too, was clearly surprised. “And where were the two of you that caused my Warden to miss a training session?”

There was a brief pause. “The Ogham Wilds.” His voice sounded no different than normal; calm, measured, quietly confident. Fianna would have believed him herself, and she actually knew the truth.

“The Ogham Wilds? The place where lovers meet?”

“Yes,” he continued. Fianna’s face was still the picture of shock from the first lie, and it seemed there was no reason for it to back to normal any time soon. “I’m sorry, sister, we lost track of time.”

“So you’re...” She indicated the two of them.

“Yes. Yes, we are.”

Niamh scrutinised Trahearne for another moment before something seemed to click into place, and her face settled into a more knowing look. She smiled slightly and turned from him to look at Fianna, who still wore an expression of shock, at which she narrowed her eyes. “Why do you look so surprised, Warden?”

“I - “ Fianna stuttered, and hastily composed herself. “We… weren’t going to tell anyone. About our relationship. Yet.” Trahearne’s story had nonplussed her, but she was willing to work with it. So she and Trahearne were lovers now? Better than Niamh finding out about the hound. This was going to be interesting to explain to Occam later.

“I’m sorry, Fianna,” Trahearne said sincerely. “I know we said we would keep it between us, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Hm.” Niamh appraised the pair. “You’re not normally so secretive about this sort of thing, Trahearne. At least, not with _us_.” Fianna knew “us” meant “Firstborn”.

“Well, Caithe knows… and Kahedins…”

“I didn’t want the Vigil recruiters to find out,” Fianna said. It was true; even though this whole story was wild invention, she couldn’t have any word of it reach the Vigil camp. “Please, Niamh, you won’t tell them, will you? I don’t want them to think it would prevent me from moving to Kryta.”

“Of course not, Warden. Just don’t be late for another training session.”

With that, Niamh turned and swept away, leaving Fianna and Trahearne standing in an awkward silence.

“Thank you,” Fianna said, breaking the silence, “for covering me. You didn’t need to do that.”

“Lie to one of my siblings?” said Trahearne absently. “It’s not the first time. Sometimes it’s better for them. Might I know the truth I was helping you cover up?”

Fianna felt a flash of guilt. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.” Not only was she making him lie, but she wasn’t telling him the reason for it. She felt terrible, but she didn’t know what Trahearne’s reaction would be, and she couldn’t risk all of her hard work being for nothing.

There was another silence; this one slightly awkward.

“I should go,” Trahearne said. “I - er - Caithe wanted to talk to me. May the Pale Tree guide you, Fianna.”

“And you,” she replied, and he walked away.

 

***

 

Despite Caithe’s objections, Trahearne had once again been “studying” by the entrance to the Grove, and this time had an excuse to actually walk over to her. He was feeling quite pleased with himself, having such a genuine reason to talk to her, and he was thinking that maybe he’d even walk her to where he’d last seen Niamh.

He remembered the urgency in her voice before she had seen him, and the reluctance to tell him where she’d been when he’d asked; whatever she was covering up had clearly been important to her. So when Niamh had shown up moments after Occam had left, he hadn’t had to think twice about covering for her.

Which, of course, was the problem: he hadn’t thought at all. Niamh had asked him for details, and the thinking part of his brain had apparently gone dormant and so he’d said the first place that came to his mind.

He’d cursed himself as soon as he said it. There were plenty of places they could have been and reasons they could have had for being there that _weren’t_ the secluded, romantic spot that he’d spent the morning fantasising about being in with her.

He’d added Caithe and Kahedins to the cover story too, which was only bending the truth a little. They deserved it, especially after he saw Niamh’s expression change as she’d realised that _this_ was clearly who they always teased him about.

They weren’t going to let him live this down.

Morosely, he dragged himself to find Caithe, and tell her of her part in his woefully pathetic love life.


	3. Chapter 3

Fianna was vigilant over the next month, being sure not to miss another training session or other meeting. The hound was recovering, too; the poison wasn’t spreading, and once it regained its strength she had started to take it above ground and let it run (or rather, hobble) around, though never letting it stray too far. She still couldn’t risk a Warden seeing it.

Her routine was to visit twice a day; just after dawn training and just before dusk. Trahearne would now regularly join her, to keep up the charade, and would walk with her until they were out of sight of the Grove. There she would leave him, usually with one of his books, until she returned later, when they would meet again and return together.

The pup had learned her timetable too, and on the days when she was delayed leaving the Grove she would hear it whimpering for her as she arrived. She desperately hoped the poison would fade so that she could bring it back to Danador’s kennel in the Verdence. She knew he would accept a healthy pup, but that in its current state she wouldn’t get past Wardenhurst with it, so she was still forced to leave it where it was and keep its existence secret.

Though the relationship she was now faking with Trahearne was unexpected, it was not awkward or uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite; it was nice to have company on her walk, and she found herself talking to him as easily as she did Occam, though rather than discussing weapons and fighting styles they would talk about Tyria, the Elder Dragons, the Pale Tree, Orr and Risen. They both wanted to see the world they loved freed from the destruction wrought by the dragons, and she found it freeing to tell him of her frustrations at her Wyld Hunt, especially as he could empathise with that particular situation.

She still hadn’t told him where she was going; though they were growing closer, she still couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t feel duty-bound to take the new immediately to one of his Firstborn siblings. Unfortunately his knowledge of corruption only extended as far as Zhaitan’s; she couldn’t ask him for help with the pup’s Nightmare problem.

They had been “together” for nearly two weeks when they were ambushed on their way back to the Grove one evening.

The attacker was a lone assassin who slipped out of the shadows and had two daggers at Fianna’s throat before she even knew what was happening. 

“Drop your weapons and come with me,” the courtier hissed. 

Trahearne was frozen, looking to Fianna for guidance after the sudden appearance of the dark enemy. Fianna obligingly reached for her axes, which she always carried, and slowly took them by the handles. Faster than Trahearne believed possible, she jerked her body backwards and brought the weapons around to meet the attacker’s daggers in the air. Now on even footing, Fianna made short work of the fight, using her superior strength and fighting skills to disarm the courtier and force him to his knees.

“Wait!” he cried. “Please, spare me. I can help you - you must have known someone turned to Nightmare. I can undo it! I can save them! Please, just let me live.”

Fianna hesitated. Normally, she would not listen to a courtier’s dying pleas, and would dispatch them without a thought. But if Nightmare poison could be reversed… If this sylvari could help her save the hound…

The assassin saw her hesitation and took his opportunity. In one swift movement, he swiped a dagger from the ground and slashed it at her head.

“Fianna!” Trahearne cried.

She reacted instinctively, ducking away from the blow and driving an axe into the courtier’s chest. He dodged out of the way just in time, and sensing his defeat, turned to flee…

...Right into Niamh’s waiting arms.

“Caught you,” she said coldly. Fianna didn’t hesitate this time; in one fluid movement her axe struck the assassin’s back, hard enough to kill him instantly. Niamh dropped the body to the ground.

“I’ve been tracking him for the last hour; he escaped during our raid earlier. I thought I’d lost him, but then I heard a shout from here.”

“Thank you, Niamh.” Fianna had never been more relieved to see the Warden’s leader. She turned to Trahearne. “Are you alright?”

He looked back at her, still in shock from the attack, speechless. She pulled him into a hug.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, but it’s over now.” She wasn’t really sure how else to reassure him, but the hug seemed to have helped.

“I’m alright,” he managed. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to hide your feelings in front of me, you know,” Niamh murmured from behind them. “No-one else is around, and I already know your secret.”

“Oh - yes,” Fianna stuttered. She had forgotten that they were supposed to be lovers; the hug had merely been a friendly gesture, but she realised Niamh would expect more of lovers. She swallowed, looking at Trahearne; his expression was unreadable.

Gently, he took both of her hands in his own, and slowly moved in to press his lips against hers. She closed her eyes and returned the kiss.

She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. His lips were soft and she could smell the delicate scent of his skin, but the most unexpected was the tingling in her stomach and the way her head went slightly fuzzy. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt frozen; she didn’t want this moment to end. 

But it did; he broke away, slowly, just far enough to look into her eyes.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Niamh said softly, shouldering the corpse and slipping away into the growing dusk. It was enough to break whatever moment they’d been having, and they simultaneously turned away from each other, breaking the eye contact.

There was a moment of silence. Neither of them looked at the other.

Eventually, Trahearne spoke first. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at the ground. “I should have - asked, or something, before-”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Fianna interrupted him. “I should be the one doing that. I’m sorry I put you in that position. If this is - uncomfortable, you don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind!” Trahearne cut in, cursing himself inwardly for sounding so eager. “I mean, I’m happy to help you.”

“Well, thank you, I appreciate it.”

“And thank you, for fending off that courtier.”

She shot him a quick smile, and felt her stomach do a little flip as her eyes landed on his face. She quickly looked away again.

“Well, we’d better…” She jerked her head towards the Grove, cringing at herself for how awkward she was being.

She didn’t quite run, but she reached Occam in much less time than it would usually take her. Not caring that she was interrupting his work, she told him what had happened with Niamh and Trahearne. Knowing her as he did, he didn’t interrupt or complain, just listened.

“..and then he kissed me, and I didn’t think it would be anything, but I didn’t feel  _ nothing _ , it was like - I felt…” She looked at him helplessly. “I didn’t want him to stop. And I don’t know what that means.” Occam couldn’t help the look of shock that passed over his face.

“It sounds like you have feelings for Trahearne!” he exclaimed.

“What? But - no, that can’t be… Really?” Fianna considered this new idea; Trahearne was a _Firstborn_ , and one who was known for solitude. She had never considered even the _possibility_... But perhaps that was the problem. She had never thought about it, and so had never realised. Now, however, understanding was dawning. She had always enjoyed Trahearne's company, far more than any other sylvari (with the obvious exception of Occam), and she was always glad to see him. Since they had started taking walks through the forest together, she had also come to realise how much they had in common. They were both dedicated to ridding Tyria of the threat of the Elder Dragons, and they were both weighed down by a Wyld Hunt too great to comprehend. They both felt it alienated them slightly from the rest of their race, but each had found solace in their slow method of making progress; him in his books, and she in her combat training.

Occam was still talking, and she realised she had been staring off into the distance.

“So... He kissed you, and you liked it. But he only kissed you because you're both pretending to be together to cover up your trips to see the pup from Niamh, which he doesn’t even know about, but is such a good guy he helped you anyway by making that whole thing up in the first place, and now you like him, but he’s so noble and not interested in you that pretending the two of you are in a relationship seems like a totally casual thing to do, and so it's going to continue until either Niamh finds out the truth or you do something horribly embarrassing because you've never been in a relationship and I seem to remember you saying that the only memories of this sort of thing that the Dream gave you were awkward and cringeworthy.” He made a show of taking a huge breath at the end, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.

“Ugh," she groaned. "You are so not helping.”

He flashed her a grin. "Just telling it how it is."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended for this fic to be all published in a day, but this mammoth of a chapter is what caused the delay. So sorry about that, and the final chapter should follow shortly!

She managed to go a week without seeing Trahearne after the incident with the Nightmare Courtier. She wasn't avoiding him on purpose, she told herself, it was just that she was too busy to see him; there was always some reason she was late leaving training and had to rush to see the pup, or some Warden duty she needed to do that left her no time to go visit him. She'd been avoiding Occam, too, so that he wouldn't point out the fact that _she_ was the one re-arranging the armory of training weapons and _she_ was the one signing up for extra patrols.

Whether or not it was her own anxieties or Tyria itself keeping them apart, there was no denying the fact that she didn't know what she would say to him. The revelation that she had feelings for him had shaken her, and now she didn't know what to do. Keep going and pretend that everything was fine? Confess her feelings to the oldest and most respected member of her race? Run away into the Maguuma Jungle, join a friendly hylek tribe and live out the rest of her life as an outcast from the sylvari? 

She was still only a few years old, and had very little experience of the world, so running away certainly seemed like an attractive idea. But she knew from what others had experienced through the Dream that it was not the thing to do. After a lot of thought she had come to the conclusion that the best plan of action was to train hard and become worthy of joining the Vigil, where she could travel to Kryta and better prepare herself for the mountainous task of her Wyld Hunt. _Away_ from any kind, noble, attractive scholars.

However, it was after one of her morning visits that she was returning to the Grove when she ran into Niamh, and all of a sudden Trahearne could no longer be avoided.

“Fianna! There you are," Niamh called, waving her over. "I wanted to speak to you after our session, but you’d rushed off somewhere! Wait, let me guess: another lovers' retreat to the Ogham Wilds?” A knowing smile crept onto her face.

“Yes, Firstborn,” Fianna replied, taking the excuse gratefully. Lying didn't come naturally to her, but it was getting easier. “That’s right. What did you want to speak to me about?”

“There's a - hold on…" she cut herself off, frowning with thought. "I saw Trahearne not long ago; he’s been studying poisons with Caithe all morning. You can’t possibly have been with him.”

“I…" Fianna faltered. Suddenly, avoiding Trahearne seemed like a stupid, selfish mistake. "You're right. I - I wasn't with him."

Niamh's frown deepened into confusion.

"You weren't? So... you were on a lovers' retreat... on your own?"

"No." _Think fast, Fianna, or the pup is done for_. "I was... with... someone else. Am! I’m with someone else.” She tried not to sound too triumphant as a new story fell into place in her mind.

Niamh’s eyes widened, and she raised her eyebrows. “Already? Really? What about Trahearne?”

“Um, we agreed that the relationship wasn’t working out," she replied slowly, inventing on the spot. "So, ah, we broke up.”

“Well," Niamh said, clearly thrown by the revelation. "That didn’t last long, if you don't mind me saying. So who’s the new find?”

“Occam.”

Niamh's face split into a broad grin. “It’s about time, congratulations! I’ve noticed the two of you are close, and I suppose if it took a fling with Trahearne to realise it…" She drifted off, and for a brief moment a look of concern passed over her. "Well, as long as you’re happy, and it doesn’t affect your training."

"Of course not, Warden," Fianna said, relieved. "And we are, very happy, thank you." 

Niamh smiled again. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you about a gathering we’re having tonight here in the Grove. A new ruler of Kryta has been crowned, Queen Jennah, and Dagonet, our ambassador in Divinity’s Reach, has suggested that it would be diplomatically favourable to hold a celebration for her here in the Grove. I expect all of my best Wardens to attend, which includes yourself, and it is human tradition to bring a guest to these occasions, so in your case, Occam.”

“Thank you, Niamh, I would be honoured. Occam and I will be there.”

"Dagonet has suggested that attendees grow flowers to match the current human fashions. He also mentioned _coattails_ , though I'm not entirely sure what he means by that. Still, who are we to question the world of human fashion? If in doubt, your Warden armour will be suitably appropriate. I look forward to seeing you and Occam at tonight's celebration!" With that, the Firstborn turned and left Fianna to her internal turmoil. She desperately wanted to talk to Occam and hear him say something comforting, but she knew there was someone else she had to find first, before all this lying got even more out of hand.

 

***

 

After the meeting of Firstborns at dawn, where Dagonet had made his announcement and preparations had begun for the human queen's arrival in the Grove, Trahearne had spent the morning with Caithe helping her mix new poisons for her stiletto dagger blades. She liked Hylek ones, but he had been trying for some time to convince her to use Orrian ones so that he could study them. Today, however, she wasn't interested in talking about poisons.

"Are you looking forward to tonight's festivities?" she asked him, a deceptive airiness to her voice. He gave her a quizzical look.

"No," he replied. Caithe knew that he would usually ignore events like this; he either missed them due to his travelling to and from Orr, or he did his best to avoid them. There was always a certain expectation that he would attend, but that was more to be seen rather than to be present. As the perceived leader of the sylvari, Dagonet had told him several times that the human ambassadors would be offended if he appeared to snub them.

“It's only that it’s traditional among humans to bring a guest to these dances,” she continued, carefully measuring out several drops of highly toxic hylek secretion. "You could bring Fianna."

"Ah."

"Perhaps you could even use this opportunity to tell her how you really feel.”

 "What?" His head snapped around to look at her. "You can't be serious, Caithe."

“Well, it should be quite easy to talk to her while you’re dancing, so why not? Then you can finally end this pathetic pining, one way or the other.”

He barely noticed the 'pathetic' comment; brutal honesty was how his sister showed love and support, and he was far too busy hyperventilating at Caithe's propsal.

"But... What if - "

"But nothing, Trahearne," she interrupted. "Either she feels the same or she doesn't. Whichever one it is, you'll deal with it and be back in Orr by next month as usual, I guarantee."

He struggled to find a retort to her blunt solution. Finally, he gave up, realising she was right.

“Fine, I’ll at least ask her to accompany me tonight. Though don’t think I don’t realise that this is just to get me out of your hair while you blend your poisons.” She flashed him a wry smile, and he reluctantly left her home and its comforting familiarity.

It didn’t take him long to find Fianna; she was just walking onto the upper commons from the Caledon Path. He called out to her.

“Fianna! There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

 He explained Dagonet's grand plans for the evening and she listened with a polite expression on her face. He couldn't tell at all what her feelings were on the upcoming event.

“...and, well, since Niamh thinks that we’re…" He awkwardly gestured to the two of them, feeling like he was running out of words after talking for so long. "Well, I thought we would go together," he finished lamely.

“I’m sorry Trahearne, but Niamh invited me as a Warden, and I’m already going with someone." His heart sank. Of course she wouldn't want to go with him. "I actually told her that we - that we broke up," she continued, "and I was coming to tell you, so you'd know you don’t need to lie to her any more. But thank you, again, for your help.”

“Of course.” He didn't know what else to say; was this what a real breakup felt like? 

"I suppose I'll see you tonight, then."

"Yes."

She gave him a small smile and turned to leave, but he called her back as he finally realised what was missing.

"Wait, Fianna - who are you going with?"

"Occam. We're seeing each other now." She glanced away awkwardly as she said it, but she was smiling again. He nodded, and she left.

Of course. He could feel his heart somewhere below his stomach. Of course she loved Occam; they had always been close, and spent so much time together. Of course she would rather be with him and have something real than pretend with Trahearne. She wouldn't even want to be seen to be in a relationship with him, Trahearne, the Grove’s only outcast, any longer than she needed to be.

He would ask Caithe to accompany him; it would be expected of the both of them to go, and much as she would protest, he knew she would want to go alone as little as he did.

 

***

 

The dance was a grand affair. Held in the Omphalos chamber so that the Avatar of the Pale Tree could attend, the musicians from Divinity’s Reach had set themselves up in one corner and every other inch of the floor was covered in people. There were richly dressed nobles from Kryta, a few shabbier representatives from Ebonhawke, sylvari in traditional clothes made from leaves and petals, and the occasional dignitary from the Black Citadel, Rata Sum and Hoelbrak.

Amongst the pleasantries and politicking, the Seraph had been teaching the Wardens how to play a drinking game known as Belcher's Bluff, which Fianna had participated in with a little too much enthusiasm. After seeing Trahearne earlier she was keen for any excuse to take her mind off him, and alcohol seemed like an excellent idea. She didn’t know how to act around him any more; how had she done it before? She didn’t remember being so acutely aware of the space in between them when she stood near him, or of ever noticing the flecks of gold he had along his nose. She hadn't been able to meet his eyes throughout their conversation, but there was so much of his face to see; the leaves that framed his eyes, the curve of his jaw, how soft his lips had looked…

"Fianna!"

With a soft thump, something hit her from the side. It was Occam embracing her - no, catching her. She'd drunk so much she'd lost her balance, and had been so caught up in her own thoughts about Trahearne that she hadn't noticed. Falling over meant losing, so the Seraph were cheering at yet another victory over the sylvari lightweights.

"Why don't we take a turn around the dancefloor, hm?" Occam said. "Try and sober you up, or at least get you away from any more wine." Slinging one of Fianna's arms over his shoulders, he shifted until he was supporting most of her weight, and lead her into the crowd of gently waltzing nobility.

Once Occam had found them a good spot, they stood, and Occam tried to time Fianna's drunken swaying with the music. She didn't notice, instead opting to verbally continue her internal monologue.

“Maybe I _don’t_ like him,” she mused, only slurring her words a little. “I mean, how can you even tell? Maybe I just like kissing people. S’not like I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing…”

“Alright then,” Occam said, long tired of this topic. “Kiss me. If you like it, there’s your answer.”

She stopped swaying and looked him steadily in the eyes; quite a feat for someone who could barely stand up straight without assistance. “Good idea,” she said seriously.

She closed her eyes and leaned forwards, clumsily planting a kiss on his lips. He obligingly kissed her back, secretly interested in what all the fuss was about. Sure, he’d experienced love and intimacy through the Dream, but he’d never had anything real.

She broke away, off-balance again, and he resumed their 'dancing'.

“Well?”

She pulled a face. “I think I’m in love with Trahearne,” she groaned.

He held back a laugh. No matter how funny drunk people were, he wouldn’t be a good friend if he laughed at her misery. “It’s just as well. I don’t fancy kissing you again.”

“What am I going to do, Occam? I don’t know how to make these feelings go away. And my head feels funny.” She rested it on his shoulder, hoping that would make the world stop swaying. It didn’t, and his shoulder was not the softest resting place.

“You could always focus on your training and hope the Vigil invite you to Kryta next time they’re recruiting.” She lifted her head to focus on his face. “Some time away from the Grove would probably help; at the moment you’re running into him all the time. And maybe you shouldn’t have any more wine tonight.”

“But I _want_ to run into him all the time!” she moaned despondently, losing her balance a little on the word “want” and swaying into him. They bumped foreheads and he barely managed to support her, but she didn’t notice. “What am I going to do?” she repeated.

He sighed. He’d dealt with Drunk Fianna once before; the alcohol seemed to remove any ideas of personal space from her head. “The first thing you need to do is drink some water and sleep off this wine. Come on; I think we’ve been here long enough to say that we came.”

He lead her to the elevator which took them down to the Upper Commons, and found some fresh water for her to drink. 

"Better?"

“A little - wait!” She jerked upright from slouching, suddenly more stable. “I forgot to visit the pup! I’ve been so busy thinking about Trahearne and tonight… I’d better go.” The adrenaline rush from her suddenly remembered duty focused her, reducing the effects of the alcohol.

Occam raised his eyebrows silently.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” she assured him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll meet you by the entrance of the Grove.”

The pup was whimpering again when she reached it; it missed her. She calmed it and let it up for a run around. She considered telling it her woes, but she wasn’t sure if she could tell the whole sorry story out loud again.

Once the hound was settled in for the night and drifting off to sleep, she set off back for the Grove. It was only after she left that she remembered why she always tried to make these visited before dusk; after sundown, the Nightmare Court patrolled the forest, looking for unsuspecting sylvari to prey on.

Her skin prickled, and she laid a hand on her axe to reassure herself before quickening her pace.

She was almost at the Grove when she heard a rustling in the darkness behind her. She spun around and drew her axe, gripping the handle as she stared, silent and motionless, at the place where she thought the noise had come from.

Another noise from her original direction caused her to turn back just in time to see a distracted Trahearne walk right into her.

“Fianna! I didn’t -”

“Sh!”

She heard it again, and now that Trahearne was here too, her mind went instantly to the courtier assassin. Her soldier’s instincts took over and she dragged Trahearne into the shadows, all the while watching for the source of the noise.

Another rustle, and a pair of human nobles emerged from the darkness, slightly dishevelled and heading back for the Grove. She breathed a sigh of relief, and relaxed, re-sheathing the axe.

Then she realised the situation she had gotten herself into.

Instinctively, she had moved them behind the cover of a tree. Trahearne, the civilian, was between her and the trunk, so that he was protected and she was facing the danger. To reduce their target size, she was standing very close to him, and she suddenly became acutely aware of all of the places her body was pressing against his.

Their faces were so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek. She looked into his eyes. Neither sylvari was moving; it felt like they were frozen in time in this dark corner of the forest. She was still slightly tipsy from the party, and as the adrenaline ebbed out of her the alcohol was slowly coming back. The intensity of his eyes weren’t helping the clarity of her thoughts either.

His lips were slightly parted, and she felt him breathe again. He still hadn’t moved. Now that she had moved her head, their faces were closer than ever. And his lips looked so soft. She couldn’t take her eyes off them.

Still, neither of them moved.

Her head was so cloudy, and the only clear thought was of those lips. It would only take a small tilt of her head…

Before she even realised what she was doing, her lips were pressed against his.

It was everything she had wanted since that very first kiss. The softness of his lips, the smell of his skin, the delicious thrills shooting through her stomach. She moved one of her hands to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking his soft skin. One of his hands was resting on her waist She stopped to take a breath, and that was the moment her thoughts finally reorganised themselves, and she realised what she had done.

Her whole body felt like it had been plunged into an icy pool of water, and she leapt back from Trahearne.

“I - I’m so sorry, I didn’t - I shouldn’t - that wasn’t - I’m sorry. I should go…” Unable to face him any longer, she turned and fled to the Grove.

 

***

 

 

It took Trahearne a while before he was ready to move again. He was rather in shock.

Watching Fianna and Occam at the party had been miserable. It hadn’t been so bad when they were in a large group with the other Wardens and the Seraph, but once the two of them had started dancing together, he had seen how their relationship wasn’t a façade as his had been with her. He’d seen her kissing him, resting her head on his shoulder, being physically close in general... It was more than Trahearne could bear. He was in love with her, but she was clearly in love with Occam.

He and Caithe had decided to leave early; neither of them were fond of crowds, and nor did they understand the complex politics of the humans. They had done their duty in showing up and mingling a little, and Trahearne had become even more depressed when he realised Fianna and Occam had slipped away somewhere. Caithe had simply become bored of Trahearne's pining.

He hadn’t expected to see her again tonight, and so had been shocked to literally walk into her. He had still been processing that shock when she had pulled him into the trees, and then paralysed by her sudden, unexpected closeness. And then she had kissed him… Obviously, that had surprised him. So much that he couldn’t even remember if he’d kissed back.

But then she had jumped back and apologised so profusely, clearly regretting the whole thing. What did it mean? Or was it just a hallucination, brought on by how much he had been thinking about her recently? The world always seemed a little less real in the forest at night. Maybe none of it had happened at all.

Shaking his head as though that would clear it, he set off back to the Grove. Today needed to end. He wondered if Caithe would feel any more sympathetic towards him after this latest turn of events.


	5. Chapter 5

Fianna didn’t leave her bed all day. Occam had to return to his smithing, but Niamh had given the Wardens the day off training to recover from the previous night. Nursing a hangover and wallowing in regret and self-pity, Fianna didn't even care that her leaves were dropping and curling in at the edges.

She only left her pod as the sun was starting to set, when she dragged herself out to go visit the young hound for the evening. She thought about asking Occam to go with her, but couldn’t bring herself to go to the populated Priory research station. Even though she had sworn Occam to secrecy, it still felt like anyone who looked at her would know her shame.

As she trudged through the darkening forest, she tried to think of something positive. The pup was doing better than ever, and may even be almost strong enough to take to Danador to join his kennel.

She was within sight of the bushes covering the pup’s hole when something invisible flew at her, knocking her to the ground and the air out of her lungs. She didn’t have any breath left to gasp with when Caithe materialised, perched on her chest, daggers at her throat.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, going around kissing whoever you like. But don’t even think about toying with Trahearne again; I know you know how he feels, and I won’t let you play with him like this. Stay with your Priory scholar and no-one needs to get hurt.”

“I - what -” she stammered breathlessly, still trying to get air into her lungs. 

She was cut off abruptly by a distant whining; the pup was expecting her. Caithe looked in the direction of the noise, and it was all the distraction Fianna needed; throwing the light sylvari off her, she scrambled to her feet and raced to the entrance of the hole, where she drew her weapons and stood facing Caithe.

“Don’t come any closer.”

“I don’t care about what you’re hiding. Confirm that you’ve got my message, and you’ll stay away from Trahearne, and I’ll leave you to whatever your cruel, manipulative head thinks is so in need of your protection.”

“Cruel? Manipulative? Caithe, I don’t understand.”

“I know that you kissed him last night. And I know that you were only pretending to be in love with him a few weeks ago. So stop using him like a toy you’ll only throw away when something more exciting catches your eye, or you’ll be answering to me. And next time, you won’t even see my blade.”

“I wasn’t - I didn’t  _ mean _ to kiss him, it just -  _ happened _ , and I know I shouldn’t have, because he obviously doesn’t see me that way, but when we told everyone were together, he was the one pretending and I... wasn’t.” She felt herself deflate slightly. Her defensive stance was now terrible, but both she and Caithe had forgotten about the pup. “So I’m sorry if I - upset him, but - it won’t happen again, I promise,” she finished miserably.

In the long silence that followed, Caithe’s face was unreadable.

“You need to talk to Trahearne. Tell him everything.”

And with that, she melted back into the forest.

 

***

 

Back in the Grove, Fianna felt little choice but to find Trahearne. Sure, she was one of the best fighters among the Wardens, but that didn't mean she wasn't absolutely terrified of Caithe. Even back in the forest, the only reason she had escaped the thief's daggers was the hound creating a distraction. 

As it was late, Trahearne was most likely to be at home, reading a book on Orr or necromancy and losing track of time. She smiled despite herself as she realised how well she had come to know him during the course of their imaginary courtship, but quickly sobered as she reached his door.

She took a deep breath, and, steeling herself, knocked.

"Enter."

Inside, the scene was almost exactly as she'd imagined. Trahearne sat at his desk in front of an open book, reading by the light of a bioluminescent plant. His quarters may have been in slightly more disarray than on her previous visits, and his hair was standing out from his head more than usual as though he'd been running his hands through it a lot. He certainly seemed surprised to see her.

"Trahearne, I need to talk to you," she began before he could say anything. "I - I need to apologise, for my behaviour last night. I’m sorry I kissed you; I let my guard down and let my feelings for you get the better of me, and it wasn’t fair on you that I - that I did that. I know you don’t feel the same way, and I promise it - it won’t happen again." She realised she was trembling, but it felt good to get her feelings out.

"Your feelings - for me?" Trahearne said, confused. "But… But what about Occam?"

“Occam?" Now it was her turn to be confused. "He’s just a friend.”

“But you went to the dance with him.”

“Because Niamh wanted to know where I’d been, and she’d already seen you in the Grove, and so I used him as an excuse, like with you," she explained. "But he’s never been - we’ve never - he’s just a friend.”

“And you… have feelings… for me?” he asked hesitantly.

“Ever since you first kissed me, that time with Niamh,” she replied softly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you again.” She swallowed. “But I know you don’t - that you’re not - and I won’t let it affect my work with the Wardens, or the Firstborn.”

“Fianna…” His voice was low and intense, and he slowly stood up from his desk to face her. “You don’t need to apologise about last night. I - I care about you as well. And I want to kiss you again, too.” 

“You…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She felt frozen; was this really happening?

He, meanwhile, felt bold. In a step, he closed the gap between them, and before he could change his mind, he did what he had been yearning to do for so long; he took her face in his hands and he kissed her.

It started much like their other kisses; soft and sweet, and like the world had stopped and it was just the two of them, their moment stretching out into an eternity. But this time, they knew they didn’t have to hold back.

The kiss deepened, and his hands went to her waist, to pull her in closer. Hers went into his hair, her fingers threading through the leaves. He slowly traced his tongue over her lower lip, and she moaned involuntarily into his mouth

She could feel every part of his body pressed against hers, and each point of contact sent thrills shooting through her. But it wasn’t enough; she wanted more.

She let her hands travel down to his chest, to where his coat was fastened, and undid it, sliding the leafy armour off his shoulders. He obliged, letting the garment fall to the floor, and then did the same to her heavier plate. 

Now skin to skin, where their chests pressed together felt even more intense, even closer. She kissed her way down his neck, eliciting soft moans from him that she felt through her lips.

His hands hadn’t stopped their work; his leggings dropped to the floor, and soon after hers followed, so that they were both naked, still kissing with a heated passion. She could feel his length pressing against her abdomen, and she felt something between her legs tighten. She  _ needed _ him.

With little effort, she moved her hands to the backs of his thighs and lifted, carrying him to his nearby bed so that they could both tumble onto it. Now lying down, he wasted no time, kissing his way down her neck and chest and covering her torso with more kisses. She moaned, bringing him back up so that their mouths met once again. 

His hands moved over her body, and she couldn’t help raising her hips, trying to communicate where she wanted them to go. He teasingly traced the insides of her thighs with his fingers, getting higher and higher, until - finally, touching her where she needed.

Gently, he rubbed her most sensitive spot, causing her to arch her back and moan. He continued to move his fingertips, making her whole body tremble with pleasure. After a time, he moved his hand down, slipping one finger inside her. She was so wet, it went in easily. He added a second finger, eliciting more moans, and kissed her again

Eventually, he had to return to that sweet spot; he loved hearing her come undone at the slightest touch of his fingers. She gasped and moaned into his mouth as he continued to make regular motions with his fingers, and her moans became higher and higher in pitch until her whole body shook as she climaxed.

Gasping for breath, there was barely a pause before she pressed their mouths together again, one hand threading back through his hair. 

“I want you, Trahearne,” she murmured against his lips, her other hand moving to gently stroke his length. It was his turn to gasp now, and he quickly positioned himself between her legs.

“Are you sure?” he breathed, aching to be inside her but not wanting to do anything she didn’t want.

“Yes,” she moaned in response.

Gently, he pressed his tip against her entrance. They both gasped at the feeling, and he slowly pushed himself further in until he was fully inside her.

“Is this okay?”

She took a few breaths, adjusting to him, before nodding. He slowly began to move, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, gently, tenderly, over and over.

“Mmmm... Trahearne… More… Don’t hold back…” 

He sped up gradually, each thrust a little faster than the last, a little harder, until he had worked up a rhythm and was moaning into her hair, her own gasps sounding in his ear. He could feel a heat building up in the bottom of his stomach, stronger with every move of his hips.

“Aaahh… Tra _ hearne _ …” As if the feeling wasn’t enough, the pleasure shooting through his body with every thrust into her, her moans in his ear were undoing him even more. The heat grew and the pleasure build until his thrusts became erratic.

“Oh... Fianna - I’m - I’m going t-” He cut himself off with a moan as he came, his whole body shuddering against her as his orgasm rocked through him. He collapsed on top of her, spent, breathing hard.

They lay like that for a while, catching their breaths, still connected, enjoying the closeness. Eventually he pulled out, but it was only so that they could find a more comfortable position, moving to be under his blankets of soft, woven leaves. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep there; her head on his shoulder, rising and falling in time with his breathing, and a faint smile was still on her lips.

Everything was going to be all right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! The end of my first fic! It's honestly such an achievement for me simply to have finished, and all feedback of any kind is hugely appreciated <3


End file.
